


Green Cyborg Ninja Dude

by emotionalsymphony



Category: overwatch
Genre: Anxiety, Cybernetic Genji, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genji takes action, Mild Language, One-Shot (Maybe), Overthinking, Overwatch - Freeform, Paranoia, Reader is a rookie, Reader is problematic, Slice of Life, reader has panic attacks, recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 18:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14624447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalsymphony/pseuds/emotionalsymphony
Summary: A chance encounter with Overwatch's resident ninja sends you reeling into frustration. Then after that--peace.





	Green Cyborg Ninja Dude

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had a bit of a breakdown today. Figures this would do the trick. For all those who are suffering with anxiety and overthinking, this is dedicated to you. Here's to surviving, to living and to fighting. Let's share a toast with our little ninja carrot.

You couldn't take it anymore.  
  
The walls of your room were horrendously gloomy, and the soft, white sheets of your bed didn't even seem half as appealing anymore, they were all littered with tears, tainted with anguished screams against its muffled cotton.   
  
It was a bad mission. Successful but utterly messy. You've never seen that much blood before--never felt that much blood before. It was heavy and dark, like a blade across the curves of your fingers and a river within the thin cracks of your scarred skin. A reminder of just how monstrous you could be.

You stare emptily at your reflection, fingers running against every bump and curve of your face, starting from the bags that hung from your eyelids to the chapped lips that was set tightly in a pout.

You’ve never seen the devil, but lately, whenever you glance at the mirror, you think you do.

And amidst the chaos, as if it couldn’t get any worse, there was another problem: Your mind.

As a kid that has always been your number one enemy—not bullies, not talon agents, not even the monster in your closet. It was yourself, constantly running on a vicious rampage of overthinking—all kinds of irrationalities spewed out at a pace that just didn't seem to stop. Memories, fears, they replay like a broken record in your head. You had this under control once. You managed it. Why on earth is it back?

_You could’ve done better to save them._

"I'm okay, I'm okay," You whisper under your breath, shoulders shaking with restraint against the creeping fears of your person.

_But you didn’t._

It was absolute hell to feel trapped inside your own head. You needed to breath, unwind then get out, and the cramp confines of your quarters were certainly not helping.

 _Incompetent._  
  
"Ah, fuck.” With a frustrated huff, you blindly rush out the door, black shirt, sweat pants and all. The entrance slams shut, a loud bang reverberating down the occupied halls. Heads turn at the commotion, eyeing you with suspicion. Even as hot tears teetered on the edges of your lashes and your demeanor was nothing near presentable, you couldn't give a damn. Their stares made you want to gag.   
  
You didn't need that. You were scared they'd see it all.   
  
Breathe.   
  
Metal floors thudded underneath your deft feet, aching to simply find a release from all this tension.  
  
Breathe.   
  
Why were they still staring?   
  
Breathe, damnit.  
  
Pity, concern, recognition, apathy blended in a sea of strangers and friends alike. It was sickening—embarrassing.   
  
You felt lower than earth.   
  
Darting down the halls, a sudden wave of adrenaline pulses through your veins, flowing faster than ever. The sound of the lively seas drew closer to your ears and desperately, you push past the burns of taut muscles, barreling out the doors like there was no tomorrow. The cool breeze instantly hits you like a bus and you find yourself greedily breathing it all in, taking whatever you could into your worn out lungs.  
  
But you didn't stop.   
  
Instead, you kept up your pace, the soles of your shoes kicking up dirt into a cloud of mist as you tore through the terrain. Protruding branches and twigs snapped against your thighs, tousled hair fraying wildly in the wind.  
  
Their screams are loud, unmistakable.   
  
All of these things are thoughts but why, why do they feel so damn real?   
  
Unleashing a shout, you throw yourself down on your knees, the tiny prickling of sharp rocks numbed by emotion. Hands begin to move on their own accord, thrashing and gripping at all it could reach. For so long, you've kept it in; the guilt of a first kill, the burden of a duty, the importance of heroics.   
  
Today, in secret, you'll vomit it all out and cry until the salt in your eyes dry with failure.   
  
Otherwise, by no doubt, you'd crack.  
  
You don't know for how long you do it, but you just let loose. Your fingernails are dirty and the gray color of your sweats are now soiled with earth, yet it slips past your attention. For the tears burning down your cheeks felt stronger than any physical pain, and the cries that lingered on your lips were more prominent than any weapon on your flesh.   
  
You hated this.  
  
You hated this.   
  
_"I hate this!"_  It rips past your throat, the climax of your temporary downfall. The sentence echoes through the forest, bouncing against the tall, looming trees. You listen, and your resolve weakens.   
  
The abhorrence in your voice was disheartening.   
  
What has become of you? You sink to the ground, cradling your hunched form as breathy sobs inched past your tongue, more subdued in nature.  
  
"You dropped something." Comes a calm, cybernetic voice—an indistinguishable  accent carving its structure. Instinctively, you spring to the balls of your feet, finally coming to your senses by the shock that suddenly encased your body. Who the hell? Irritation narrows your brows in an unwelcoming expression and you whip around furiously to witness your intruder, wiping away stray tears as an attempt to steel your sorrow. There behind you, standing in a relatively nonthreatening stance, was a man. Or was he? The metal plating, the green lights--this couldn't be a person. Surely.  
  
Annoyed, you spit out a perplexed, "What?"   
  
The stranger simply gestures to the awfully familiar sneaker held up in his right hand, its untied laces dangling lazily from the air. You recognized it to be yours. It must have fallen off mid-rampage. Taking this as some sort of mockery, you scoff, and cross your arms in an angered fashion. Can't he see you were not in the mood for this? 

"You can keep it," You bite out, harshly kicking off your other shoe, "And this one too." Without so much as a second thought, the item comes hurling through the air, spite pillaging your actions. The cyborg catches it with ease, sparing it a glimpse before bending down to lay them side by side, the lush grass giving a crinkle at the contact.   
  
He fixes his posture, "You are angered.” The person points out, as if it were not apparent enough.

A sarcastic 'Ha!' emerges bitterly from your mouth, eyes rolling with exasperation. You move to sit down, folding your legs as you absentmindedly picked at dry, random leaves, makin sure to respond just as roughly, "Don't you have to eat dinner or something? All agents are supposed to be in the mess hall by now." The sentence is made to throw him off, distract him from the situation at hand, but ever the tolerant idealist (much thanks to his master) Genji opts to watch you with curious eyes, remaining patiently in his place.

The man's tone, though reserved, housed the inkling of a playful bite, "It is very interesting to hear that from you," A masked chuckle, "Especially since I do not see you in the mess hall."

Not a beat was wasted, defiant by blood. "Touche, fucker. Is that you wanna’ hear? Just leave me alone." You snap and bare your teeth in a snarl, almost feral with aggression. Although, what was meant to sound tough was betrayed by the tiny crack of your voice, exposing a vulnerability that laid so secretly in your chest.

The cyborg does not respond, unfazed in his relaxed demeanor.

A silence falls upon the empty breeze and you falter, averting your gaze,

"Sorry."

Empathy encourages him. The ninja decides to approach you, soundlessly moving to stand by your curled figure, his mechanical body angled towards the view, "So, you are the new recruit?”

You find yourself reluctantly answering in a whisper, "Yes."

The light of his visor momentarily surveys the area, falling on strewn branches and ruined shrubbery, a result of your rampant temper. Area fully assessed, the Shimada speaks up once more, “I take it the job was not to your liking?”

You abruptly right posture, objecting in a shout of protest, “No!” Genji snaps his head towards yours, drawn to the change of tone. For some reason, you find yourself shrinking at his gaze, softening, “This whole mess," Your arms spread out weakly, referring to the destruction around you,"This isn't because I don't like my job. Of course I like it. It’s Overwatch." You reasoned, "I’m well aware that it’s against the law but it stands for good reason. It’s an honor to work alongside heroes, believe me. I—” A sigh, “I guess I’m just not sure if it’s cut out for me anymore.”

Another gap in the conversation.

You bury your hands into your face, “What is this to you anyways. I shouldn't be speaking to people in the woods," 

“You'll find that it is much better than beating up grass,”

An empty husk of laughter, “Sure.” You adjusted your legs, tonguing the inside of your cheek in thought as your gaze grew distant and longing. Your shoulders begin to sag, and the bags under your eyes felt heavier than usual. The snark that shone through your gaze dies in your solitude, and you wander off to the tiny cuts and newly formed bruises on your arms. They stung. Maybe he was right. Maybe you needed this. 

For now, you'll seize this moment to your advantage. 

“When I,” You start unsurely, fidgeting in a nervous tic, “…when I came here to work as a field agent, I expected something different.” A breath is expelled, “Overwatch gave me and my family hope and as a kid—just like any kid—I dreamt about working alongside all these heroes, y’know? Give people the same kind of hope that I was given. I suppose I just never really would have thought of the actual weight of the duty and the lives and… I expected something less,”

You glanced towards your shaking palms, speaking in a solemn voice. “Less heavy.” Slowly, your fingers curl into fists, the chipped nails of your digits digging against your skin. A tear slides down the bend of your chin, restraint far out of reach, “Ah, damnit.” The words waver in it’s strength, your teeth clamping down on the bottom of a quaking lip, “I used to be so happy, so full of hope. And now I just feel pathetic, I feel lost and I don’t know where to go. Every time I close my eyes, every time I think they all just keep coming back and it feels so real even if I know it isn’t. It’s like my mind’s out to get me all the time and there’s no stopping it.” A choke bubbles up your throat as rain pours from the creases of your eyelids, ashamed by your weak display in stature. In front of a  _stranger_ , out of all people.

The Shimada feels his heart clench at your gut-wringing sobs, recognition burning his conscience. Genji pictures a time where nightmares ran uneasy and plagued his soul like an illness. He recalls the anger he had once felt and the frustration that choked him to oblivion—the hate that he bore for himself.

Cautiously, the cyborg squats to your level, vision still glued to the vast sea of the Iberian Peninsula. He keeps the cold metal tips of his arms hung on the plating of his knees, setting a well enough distance between you, “You speak as though your mind is a different being.”

A snot-ridden ‘huh?’

Genji cocks his head in your direction and watches you from behind his visor, “Your mind, your emotions.” He begins, “They are merely a part of you, and what is a part of you is under your control.”

You chortle, rolling your bloodshot eyes, “I’ve heard that before, it doesn’t make it any less hard.”

 _“_ Neither does it make it any less true _.”_  He quips. “It is difficult, not impossible.”

“Might as well be.”

His aura is kind, “How do you expect yourself to be well if you keep this kind of mindset?”

A darkness glazes over your face, “I don’t expect myself to be well.”

There’s a lack of response on the other end, and you almost turn your head, expecting him to have come up with more. He does, just not as you expect.

“You remind me of my brother.”

It nearly sounds annoyed.

Despite how frayed your nerves were, you manage to sputter in shock, blinking rapidly at his comment, “Excuse me?”

“Painfully so,” Genji rises from his position, the valves on his shoulders activating as it releases short spews of gas. The man feigns exasperation, “He is always sulking and stubborn. It makes him look even more of an old, brooding man.”

Your jaw drops,  _“Are you saying that I’m—”_

“Very stubborn?” He looks down at you, “Perhaps.” A pause, “But I do know that what you’re going through is not endless. Sometimes, it is a matter of perspective.”

Oh, so we’re there again. “And if the thoughts come back?”

“You will learn how to manage it in due time. Bear some faith in yourself.”

Your eyes shut close, a long sigh pulled from the exhaustion on your shoulders. You struggle to make peace with yourself, muttering in a voice so tiny, “They just feel so real.”

A calm wind passes over you, lightly wrinkling your clothing.

“Did you know that the sunset is real as well?” Your brows crease at that. Of course, you did.

“Open your eyes,” He instructs in a firm but gentle tone.

At this point, you knew that putting up a fight would be fruitless. Blowing air through your nose, you unenthusiastically surrender to his request, slowly fluttering your lashes to be greeted by the scenery.

And suddenly, you were smitten.

In your rage, you hadn’t noticed that you were running uphill, clawing to a tall leveling of land that offered a beautiful clearing of the forest. There, right before your own eyes, was the sun, warm and orange in all its splendor, kissing the light blue waves of the ocean. The sky was painted in a hue of purples and yellows, an easing concoction of nature’s canvas. You see the light sculpting the creases and folds of your body, the teasing breeze of the shore billowing against your damp hair. You feel the tiny prodding of the grass tickle at your knees, soothing the cuts and burns of the miniature gray stones. You hear the lapping of the waves against rocky sand and strong, unbreakable concrete.

You’re immersed in the magic of the island.

And to think, had you just opened your eyes, detached yourself for the briefest of moments you would have realized that there was so much more that existed beyond the deep, dark crevices of paranoia or the suffocating, rivers of depression and the madly addicting pain of overthinking. There was so much to live for.

Upon seeing the serenity that relaxed your once tense features, Genji turns to leave, finally aiding you your privacy.

But you see the shifting of his figure from the corner of your vision and immediately whip around with urgency,

“Hold on!” You call out.

The man halts his administrations.

“Do you have a name?” You ask with piqued interest, gratitude cushioning your tone.

A second passes and the cyborg finds the look on your face rewarding, the ribbon of his suit entangling gracefully with the gush of air. 

Genji raises two, metal-plated fingers over his temple, saluting once as he jumped up among the thick branches of the woods. There’s that same small inkling of playfulness in his tone as he speaks,

_“Green cyborg ninja dude.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I was thinking that maybe I'd make another fic within the same timeline, but just not have it as a chapter project. What do you think? 
> 
> I accept critique, comments and especially those kudos ; ) Bless!


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